MAC 14

Chapter: 14

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I had a feeling you’d be wandering around somewhere.”

Dominic clicked his tongue as he grabbed Patrick by the arm and pulled him along.

“Wait, Dominic. I need to go meet someone.”

Patrick turned and tried to head back toward the banquet hall, but Dominic shook his head firmly.

“I know you’re a huge fan of Mr. Greenleaf. But there’s no chance of that right now.”

“Still?”

“I just came from the hall, and it’s still going to be a while. I never knew our people were this interested in biology. Do you know how many newspapers have shown up? Looks like he’s going to be plastered across the front page of tomorrow morning’s papers.”

“Oh, dear.”

Patrick turned back toward the banquet hall with Dominic.

Sure enough, the area around Edward Rockwell was still teeming with people. Through the layers of people surrounding him, Patrick could spot those who had apparently managed to get an autograph, their faces lighting up with childlike delight.

“Do you think there’ll be a gap if we wait a little longer?”

“You’d have to wait another couple of hours. Besides, you’re not trying to meet him just to get an autograph, are you?”

Dominic gestured toward Patrick’s briefcase and the stack of papers.

“If you want to have a conversation with him while carrying all that thick research material, there’s absolutely no chance tonight.”

“…”

“Enough of that. People our age are gathered in the private room over there. Let’s go show our faces.”

And so Patrick was practically dragged toward the private room.

“Marchioness! Just one word….”

“Did you know that your younger brother is Mr. Greenleaf…?”

“What was the new museum director like when he was a child?”

After wandering around the banquet hall trying to avoid the reporters, the Marquess and Marchioness of Somerset finally managed to take refuge at a table behind a massive palm tree.

“Those dreadful people!”

The Marchioness shuddered in disgust and, as soon as she sat down, opened a large ostrich-feather fan and covered her face with it.

They had already shaken off groups of reporters carrying notebooks three times. The Marquess of Somerset, who had been wanting to get into the cigar room for quite some time, sank deep into his chair and let out a sigh.

“I feel as though I’ve aged ten years.”

The Marquess of Somerset looked visibly haggard. Ever since their daughter had suddenly dropped the bombshell that she intended to go abroad to Verquion to study, he had been losing sleep and skipping meals for days.

“Darling. Do you think Edward can persuade our Beatrice? If he can’t…”

“Don’t talk as though you’re helpless. Even if he can’t, we have to make sure she stays here.”

Perhaps because her chest felt stifled, the Marchioness seemed to forget about maintaining her dignity and downed a glass of champagne in just two or three gulps.

“In my opinion, you spoiled that girl terribly.”

“Why are you blaming me? Whenever my precious daughter cries and makes a fuss, my heart feels like it’s going to break.”

Their youngest daughter, Beatrice Somerset, had first declared that she seriously wanted to attend an art school when she was around eighteen.

After becoming involved in an unpleasant incident at boarding school, Beatrice had deferred an entire year and returned to the Somerset estate, where she shut herself away in her bedroom and suffered from emotional anguish for a long time.

Whenever the Marquess of Somerset thought back to that time, his eyes would invariably grow misty.

Back then, the Marquess was frequently away from home on diplomatic business, and every time he left on a trip, the image of his young daughter weighed heavily on his mind. He had even asked the king several times to let him resign, but his requests had been rejected every time, making even that impossible.

‘Sweetheart, you need to pull yourself together. Is there anything you want to do? Daddy will do anything for you. All right?’

There had been days when she wouldn’t even answer his desperate questions. Every time he saw his daughter withering away day by day, it felt as though his heart were being torn apart.

And then, one day, Beatrice finally opened her mouth.

She wanted to be allowed to paint.

‘Yes, yes. Daddy will get you everything you need. All right? Do you need materials? Shall I buy you some new brushes?’

At that moment, his daughter, her face pale and completely drained of color, murmured absently.

‘I… I want to attend the Royal Academy of Fine Arts….’

‘Hmm, sweetheart, that’s certainly a wonderful dream, but… I don’t think that’s a place you can attend. As far as I know, it’s mainly attended by commoner men….’

‘Daddy, please….’

‘Please, sweetheart….’

Back then, his heart had truly felt as though it were collapsing….

Whenever the Marchioness accused the Marquess of Somerset of being the one responsible for giving their daughter her “artistic illness,” he recalled his feelings at the time this way.

If anyone had seen that delicate girl whispering weakly, as though this were the last wish of her life and she might leave her parents’ side at any moment, even a cold-blooded man whose heart was made of iron and ice would have shed hot tears. It had simply been a noble decision by a father to save his daughter’s fading life….

“It wasn’t that dramatic.”

The Marchioness of Somerset cut him off firmly.

“I was there too, remember? She was simply being stubborn, and you’re far too sentimental. Beatrice didn’t even cry back then.”

“Ahem. No, that’s not true. I distinctly remember that moment.”

The Marquess of Somerset sighed as he rubbed his face. Before his wife could scold him, he discreetly wiped the corners of his eyes, which had somehow become moist.

Their recollections of the event differed somewhat, but in any case, the Marquess of Somerset had rashly promised to grant Beatrice’s request.

Beatrice immediately sprang to her feet, shut herself in her room, and prepared for the entrance examination all by herself.

To be honest, now that they looked back on it….

Neither the Marquess nor the Marchioness of Somerset had expected Beatrice to actually get into the Royal Academy of Fine Arts.

The shock when Beatrice came running in, waving her acceptance letter as though mocking her parents’ expectations!

“Darling, now that I think about it, perhaps we should have gotten her to promise that she’d only attend the Royal Academy of Fine Arts.”

The Marquess of Somerset sighed as he dwelled on the past.

“Perhaps. But it’s not as though you can make someone follow a curfew.”

After finishing her second glass of champagne, the Marchioness of Somerset delivered another quiet but pointed remark.

“You know that girl. She’s overflowing with a desire to learn. What good would a promise like that have done? She would have gone out into the world sooner or later anyway.”

The Marchioness let out a low sigh and leaned back against the chair. Even now, he still didn’t understand their daughter!

A father’s love, and using promises to persuade her to stay put, only worked on someone who was willing to be swayed by such things.

Resting her chin in her hand, the Marchioness surveyed every corner of the banquet hall. Seeing a recently engaged couple whispering shyly to each other with flushed faces made her genuinely envious of their parents.

How nice it must be.

At least that family’s daughter probably wasn’t plotting to turn her parents’ lives upside down before running away across the sea.

“Speaking of which.”

The Marquess suddenly looked around the hall.

“Why hasn’t she come back yet? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her.”

“She’ll be here soon. I saw her go into the private room earlier, so don’t worry. That’s where the young people gather, and they all know each other through one another.”

“Why would she go into the private room? It’s full of nothing but troublesome youngsters.”

The Marquess immediately frowned.

Knowing exactly what her husband’s words implied, the Marchioness fell silent for a moment.

Come to think of it, there was probably more to their daughter wanting to leave for a place across the sea than simply painting.

Even though she appeared to have recovered completely, perhaps the scars from her past were reopening.

The thought suddenly made it difficult for her to breathe.

Until now, she had always been the one to say harsh things to their daughter. Someone had to draw the line, since her softhearted husband was too weak to do it whenever he saw their daughter looking pitiful and on the verge of tears.

Their daughter had always chosen a harder path than everyone else. The Marchioness had believed she must not indulge her, because that way it would hurt less when she eventually fell.

But what on earth could she do to make her daughter happy…?

The Marchioness slowly scanned the banquet hall and spotted her younger brother.

Edward Rockwell. That troublesome boy still seemed to be suffering at the hands of the reporters.

“It looks like it’ll be difficult tonight, so as soon as morning comes, go talk to Edward.”

“Right. Let’s leave it to your brother-in-law.”

The Marchioness looked down at her glass of lukewarm champagne and added,

“Even so, sending her to Verquion is out of the question. Ask him to understand how she feels and persuade her to stay here.”

“Of course. That goes without saying.”

“Once she’s had some time to calm down, we need to get her married, too. You know that.”

“I know, of course I do….”

“I hate to say it, but the future where that girl never marries will be even more miserable. She may enjoy her freedom for a little while, but before long, she’ll become someone who belongs nowhere and drifts on the fringes of society.”

As his wife repeatedly emphasized the point with a gloomy expression, the Marquess of Somerset gazed into the distance bitterly.

Yes….

That was simply how reality was.

The future of a single woman without financial independence or much legal protection was bleak.

She was already twenty-five. In aristocratic society, she was far too mature an age to remain unmarried.

Now, their daughter too would have to face the harsh wall of reality called marriage.